Chapter 8
T o my relief, Noah and I relax into his SUV for the rest of our drive to Portland International Airport, settling into a cozy hum of laid-back conversation for the next hour and a half. I’ve kept my hand on his knee, rubbing it as we chat, and I’m delighted by how much it softens his shoulders.
I hope this is a good omen for our trip. We’re leaving three days early, allowing us today for traveling, and two additional days to bond with four of our best allies. Our hosts Viktor and Annika, the King Alpha and Queen Luna, lead their pack in Sweden, where they’re giving us a room to stay in their lakeside Community Center. Tāne and Waimārie will arrive shortly after us, catching an even longer flight from Aotearoa—the land I’ve known as “New Zealand” until learning more about its indigenous roots from these new friends.
Judging by everyone’s lighthearted natures the last time we talked, I’m relieved to know we’ll start our trip on a pleasant note.
But as Noah and I grip the door handles to exit the car in the parking lot, Lilian’s sharp, furious mindlink freezes us in place.
You two need to wear scarves on that plane before you inevitably mate. I’ve never seen more pregnant wolves in my lifetime! They’re so ravenous in the Community Center kitchen that I’m going to have to make more food—all because of your wild Luna mating ritual.
Noah’s eyes widen so far that I burst out laughing. He beams at my heavy laughter despite his darkening cheeks.
“I guess we better listen to our Elder Luna,” Noah mutters, hopping out of the car.
Laughing, I follow Noah to the SUV’s trunk. He tugs one of my three scarves out of my backpack, draping it around my neck. But when my abdomen accidentally brushes against his belt, Noah freezes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He holds me back by the hips, rotating me left and right. “Holy shit, Aliya, you have such a clear little bump today.”
My stomach flips. “It’s— It’s still just extra bloating, I think. Isn’t it?”
“No, no, no—”
Noah spins me until my back presses against his chest. Whipping out his phone to take a photo of us, he grasps the back of my bulky hoodie until it’s wrapped tight around my belly, exposing the smooth curve of my stomach. My heart catapults into my throat as Noah skates one hand down it, his eyes locked on mine as I gaze in awe at his phone’s screen. “That’s not bloating like last month, sweet Omega. You’ve stayed this big for over a week, and you’ve only gotten bigger. That’s our baby.”
Tears cloud my vision, but when I blink them away to meet Noah’s dazed eyes above me, I release a wet, giddy laugh; he already looks like a terrified yet euphoric new dad.
Gripping Noah’s hand on my belly, I turn over my shoulder, planting a hard kiss into his lips. Noah breathes me in, holding me even closer. Except he’s not just holding me. He’s holding the faint, new soul I keep feeling between us—occasionally poking their little head into our bond to say hello. My breath restarts as elation crashes between us, amplified by the heat of our lips.
When I pull back to gaze at Noah, his electrified eyes squeeze my heart. I trust him, not only with our pack, the world, and myself, but also with this baby we’re carrying together.
Tapping his recent photos on his phone, Noah grins wider, adoration flooding our bond. I stretch on my toes, tilting his hand for a better view of his screen. I thought he put his phone away after showing me how pregnant I looked, but Noah took a sneaky photo of us afterward, and it steals my breath away.
He’s right: my bump looks like it’s here to stay. In the photo, Noah’s big hand swoops under it to emphasize how it curves past my hip bones. My heart flips at the way he’s cradling our baby while also snuggling me tight against his chest, gazing down at me like there’s nothing else in the world to look at. But what strikes me the most is the pure joy in my weepy, giddy eyes, beaming up at Noah in a way I’ve never seen myself look in any photo I’ve taken. I look more than just in love. I look deeply, truly cared for—and understood.